


Faerie Lockets

by snailjamsge



Category: Original Work, The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Bakery, Baking, Ball, Classical Music, Dancing, Faeries - Freeform, Fairy, Friendship, Inspired by classical music, Medieval, Music, Queen - Freeform, Singing, baker - Freeform, dance, faerietales, fairytale, medieval setting, musician - Freeform, town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailjamsge/pseuds/snailjamsge
Summary: "Chaddick. Singing is not just a hobby. It's my life," Nicola said.⠀⠀Nicola works in a bakery for one reason and one reason only: to raise enough money to attend the prestigious singing academy in the city. But Nicola's chances turn sour when a wealthy "patron of the arts" visits the bakery. Will she ever be able to sing in the city? Chaddick, her only friend and fellow baker, doesn't think so
Kudos: 4





	1. Epigraph

_"Come away, O human child!  
_

_To the waters and the wild_

_With a faery, hand in hand,_

_For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."_

"The Stolen Child" by W. B. Yeats

———————————♬———————————

Accompanying music: Gustav Holst's The Planets Op. 32 - Uranus, the Magician 


	2. Part 1: Something Sweet

"Ouch!" Nicola yanked her arm away from the hot oven rack. The oblong welt grew an angry red across her forearm.

Pulling the batch of fluffy rolls from the oven, she walked them from the back room to the rest of the bread still steaming on the bakery's window display, adding each roll to the shelves.

"Nicola!"

The Nicola in question turned her head towards the other teenaged baker currently behind the sales counter, away from the beams of light that revealed even the smallest of dust motes. She wore a frock with a white and purple plaid print almost entirely flour encrusted. Her black-laced boots were white in places, also from the flour. She didn't give her work uniform nearly enough love.

"Come and manage the sales, I've got to go and laminate the brioche dough," he said.

"Yes, Chaddick," Nicola replied.

Nicola stuck out her tongue to his back as he walked to the kitchen.

_He only gives me sales duty because I'm a horrible baker._

The door chimed open as Nicola dusted off as much flour from her apron as she could, positioning herself behind the counter in the nick of time. The door slammed behind the customer, almost knocking the doorbell clean off.

"Welcome to the bakery, our town's only bakery," Nicola drawled.

"My, my, as if I wouldn't know that," the visitor smiled, though if it was meant kindly, Nicola could not discern. "I'm interested in your wares."

Nicola began listing breads, counting them off on her fingertips. "We've got pumpernickel, brioche, croissants, banana bread—"

The customer up her hand, stopping her. She looked disdainfully around at the wooden shack of a store, its walls covered in the same plaid print wallpaper as the bakers' uniforms. "I'm interested in your wares, darling. Let's say," her eyes zeroed in on Nicola, though the baker couldn't discern where exactly she was looking. "I'm a wealthy patron of the arts. Got anything I would be interested in?"

Nicola's heart leapt into her chest. A patron of the arts? "I sing," she said, her one finger that was circling around the cash register's keys accidently pressing down on a K. "Very well," she squeaked out.

The woman eyed the flour-covered girl up and down, her chunky jewelry clinking as her head moved. "Want to give a demonstration? I promise it could be very rewarding."

Nicola nodded. Silence gave way to a one-person symphony with words only Nicola knew the true meaning of. The air ebbed and flowed, pushed out and pulled in, and Nicola stood deathly calm in the center, performing as if her future depended on it.

It did.

Her voice was out of tune at some moments and too fast the next, but any passerby could hear her potential. Nicola could sing, and she could sing well.

The woman clapped as Nicola took a small bow, sending flour onto the floor.

"I like your style." The woman looked around the room as if she was about to conspire with Nicola — let her in on a secret. "If you sing," she asked with a palm cupped to her face, "then why work at a bakery?"

"Money for tuition." It was the honest answer. "I need it to attend a singing academy in the city."

 _I need to get to the city to live a real life_ , she thought, the words going unspoken. Nicola could see the woman taking all of the information in, churning it and then devouring it whole.

"What about this? I give you all the tuition money you could need, and I take something sweet with me from the bakery to enjoy in the comforts of my own home."

Nicola couldn't help but to stare at the woman. She was evidently one of the wealthy sorts who flung money around in exchange for the most trivial of trinkets and dressed formally to visit a mere bakery. She even wore white gloves up to the elbow and an ankle-length purple dress to a _bakery_. There wasn't a hair out of place. She looked perfect, though a bit difficult to stare at for too long, as if looking directly at the sun. The bakery girl broke away from ogling at the "patron of the arts'" fashion choices.

 _She can't be serious_ , Nicola thought. "Are you serious?"

"Why of course. Wouldn't want to deny you such a grand opportunity after all." The customer leaned onto the counter, her gloved finger swiping against the counter before inspecting it for dust. "How much money is it then, darling?"

"One thousand crowns." The singer's voice broke on the last word. "Are you sure? You're really going to give money to someone you don't know."

The customer tensed. "I can always take my money elsewhere."

Nicola grasped at the air. There wasn't a moment to spare to think about the offer. "No, no, wait! I'll take you up on it."

"Let's shake on it, to be proper."

Nicola nodded, offering her hand. The woman took it, and with one vigorous shake sealed the deal, her gloved hand shaking one dusted in a fine powder of flour.

Nicola turned around to see if Chaddick had heard all of the ruckus, but he was still in the back, and there was now a neat pile of money on the counter. The woman nonchalantly opened the jade and brass locket around her neck, twisting it around and around on itself, toying with it as a cat would with its prey.

"Thank you...?" Nicola trailed off.

The woman stiffened and replied curtly; "Sophie. No need to thank me." She looked as rigid as the stale loaves of bread Nicola had thrown out earlier.

"What do you want from the bakery?" Nicola questioned. "We'll have something fresh out in twenty minutes if you don't mind the wait."

"Oh, dear girl," the patron cackled, shutting her locket, "I've already taken something sweet from the bakery."

The door chimed somewhat ominously as the woman exited the store. "Have fun singing!" she trilled.

"I will!"

Nicola stared at the pile of wealth before her, each piece glinting in the soft light of the bakery.

———————————♬———————————

Chaddick almost dropped the brioche dough when he saw the money Nicola held.

He frowned. "Nicola, did you _rob_ a customer?"

"No? No."

Coins and paper money slipped between her fingertips and clattered against the floor.

"I promise I didn't." She took off towards the door. "I've got to talk to my father."

"Nicola," Chaddick shouted, "wait!"

"No time!"

Nicola sped off, holding more than her life savings in her cloth apron. She didn't make a habit of running about, but today seemed to be an exception.

———————————♬———————————

Peering into the tavern window, Nicola spotted him, toying with an empty glass. As if he wouldn't be there; he always was.

"Father! You won't believe my luck!" Nicola thrust the money towards his bleary eyes.

"Eh? Oh, Nicola, it's you." Her father picked a coin off the top of the pile, walked away with it, and returned with a glass of something a rusty orange color. Nicola's smile wilted and withered away against the candles of the bar.

"I can go to singing classes now," was all she could muster up.

"Since when could you sing?" Her father said gruffly, peering into his now empty, orange stained mug.

"Since forever."

"Sing then."

Nicola glanced around. The tavern didn't have many patrons at this time in the morning. "I don't need to prove myself."

Nicola's father picked up another coin from the pile, turning it so that it reflected his worn-out face. "Then what's stopping me," the light reflecting from the coin hit Nicola square in the eye, "for taking all of this money for myself. I may not know much, but I know that bakery," he pointed out the window, "isn't pulling in this type of cash."

"I—" Nicola sighed and opened her mouth to sing. An obligatory song.

 _A dirge perhaps_ , Nicola thought.

Silence.

"Any day now."

The bartender's cloth squeaked against the polished wood of the counter. But Nicola stood there gaping as a fish might if it found itself out of water for the first time.

Her father's hand tightened around the coin. "So, you're telling me you can't sing? Fat lot of help this money will do for you if you can't sing. I should probably take care of it for you then."

Tears began spilling onto her brown skin, marring her once hopeful face.

"I can't sing." Nicola bit down on her lip. _Why can't I sing_ , she thought, her mind racing. _I sang to the bakery this morning._

She watched numbly as her father dragged some of the coins off the table and into his pocket, unable to reach out and stop him.

_I sang as the first loaves of the day burnt my hand._

Her father ordered another round.

_I sang as the doorbell chimed open for the deliveries._

"Get me some of the good stuff," he said gruffly.

_I sang for Sophie. I sing. Wait._

"Sophie!" Nicola screeched.

"Who?"

But Nicola was already out a door for the second time that day.

———————————♬———————————

Chaddick punched the dough, careless of the fact that he just undid all of its rising. "She took your singing. That 'lady' took your singing!" He punched the dough again. "That was no lady. That was a faerie. Something sweet, but she didn't want any of the breads? How could you fall for that Nicola? You're smarter than that!" He abandoned the dough, putting his hands on Nicola's shaking arms.

Nicola began openly crying now. "I thought—"

He sighed, leaving flour prints against Nicola's frock as he took a step back. "To be fair, I probably would have done the same if she offered to renovate this place. I'd love to surprise my father one day and show him I can run this place by myself. But still!" He threw up his arms.

"I thought faeries were from faerie tales! Nothing more!" Nicola wiped her face on her apron.

"Didn't you find it suspicious that the painter a few doors down can't paint in colors anymore? Didn't you think it odd that the dressmaker has the most glorious prints and fabrics, but her sewing suddenly became horrible after last year's winter? What were you thinking?" Chaddick paced around the small back room.

Nicola bit her lip, hoping that the pain would quell her tears. "I was _thinking_ that faeries weren't real."

"Well they are, and they came for you. And you let them take your singing!" He sighed, leaning against the counter, his elbow squishing the dough ball. "You! Of all people."

Nicola sniffed, her voice wobbly. "I'm going to get my singing back."

"No, you aren't! People who go to Faerieland Don't. Come. Back," he emphasized. "But I guess you wouldn't know that?"

Nicola shook her head. "I'll come back."

Chaddick continued, somehow sounding more like his father with every intake of breath. "No. You're going to use that money for something worthwhile and thank your life that faerie didn't take more than your singing. She could have taken all of your voice!" Chaddick's voice strained. "I'm begging you, please calm down. You're supposed to be the practical one. Maybe you can take up a new hobby, learn how to actually make the bread here instead of burning it. I can't lose my only friend."

"Chaddick. Singing is not _just_ a hobby. It's my life. That faerie," Nicola's hand curled into a fist, "has my _life_. Besides, Father has the money now anyway. It's as good as gone." Nicola mumbled, "shouldn't have shown it to him anyway." She looked at the floor, at the geometric patterns she'd memorized as the ovens heated up each morning. "Chaddick. I know you're my only friend, but..."

"Yes?"

"Good day." And with that, Nicola strode out of the bakery, leaving Chaddick open-mouthed.

"Don't you want to think this through?" He shouted after a moment. "This isn't you Nicola!"

This time, the silence was intentional, broken only by the swinging of the door on her way out and the chipper chime of the bell.

———————————♬———————————

The forest encompassed the town; as a child, Nicola never believed the other town kids spreading rumors that the forest had swallowed the town whole, that it was a living being. Now, she desperately hoped that the kids were wrong. She wished that she had listened to Chaddick, that she had spent more time studying the faerie tales rather than enjoying them, that she had let the conversation stray away from mundane baking tips while at work. Maybe it would have saved her from this.

 _Maybe the forest is alive_ , Nicola thought as leaves crunched beneath her feet and others swirled upwards, returning to the trees they fell from. But Nicola put the thought out of her mind. She already had to worry about faeries, _living breathing faeries,_ and adding a living forest to the mix did not appeal to her one bit.

Nicola paused somewhere in between the end of the poorly maintained dirt path and the beginning of pure, unforgiving forest. Crow calls sounded from the tops of trees deep in the foliage, and a vague scratching made itself known every so often from under the bramble bushes. She took one step, planting herself firmly on the forest soil — a silent declaration that she would not flee. A chill swept through her, but the ground did not tremble from her decision.

 _Without my singing, I am nothing,_ Nicola thought. _I am useless._

And with that, she continued onwards, despite her common sense cautioning her against the decision, eyes alert for some entrance, something to take her to Faerieland. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, to be frank. The entrance could be a hole in the dirt, or a gap between bushes, or an actual wooden door.

 _It could be anything. There must be some type of entrance. How else could Sophie have jumped between worlds_ , she thought.

She found it easier to let her mind wander as her eyes passed over each nook and cranny.

 _I should have known better._ Nicola's mouth set into a line. _Faeries should stay in their faerie tales._

The sky darkened, though it was only midmorning. The forest engulfed her, moving her towards its heart as she pushed onwards into the wooded depths. The crows tittered to one another, perhaps hoping for a grander meal than a rabbit or squirrel for dinner that evening. For each step she took forwards, the ground took on inkier and darker hues; she could barely see her own boots.

Squash.

Nicola peered down, squinting, and found herself on top of a mushroom, but there were others too — all in a circle, as if laid out in advance. Each button-shaped fungus had brilliant white spots painted against a blood red backdrop. They were the only being that could stand out among the darkness of the forest.

_What's this, a faerie ring? From the stories?_

Nicola squinted at it, just to be sure. The faerie ring stood its ground, not afraid to be looked at by the poor human who had the misfortune of happening upon it. One often found themselves in a faerie ring if they wandered in the forest long enough.

That's _why nobody ventures into the forest and off the path_. _Thought people were just scared of the dark or bears or something._ Nicola didn't give herself the time to change her mind and stood firmly inside the ring.

_Not much left for me in town anyway._

The birds didn't sing any differently. The trees didn't shimmer in any new and spectacular way. At least, nothing changed until Nicola walked out of the faerie ring. That's when the forest really started to change.


	3. Part 2: The Faerie Ball

———————————♬———————————

A fistful of leaves smacked Nicola in the face as she emerged into Fairieland inside a bush.

_Pleasant welcome._

Each thin branch grasped for her attention, dragging against her skin, pointing her in some direction or another and needling into her side. At first, all she could see was the green of the leaves and the thickness of their stems, but what she heard stole away the rest of her voice.

A voice sang in a tone Nicola could only describe as ethereal;

"get yourself out from the market,

and pull yourself up from the glen.

There's a wondrous ball outing this evening,

and don't catch yourself lacking a craft, or ten."

The sky shrouded in darkness and spotted with stars, Nicola emerged from the bush, entranced by the singer's crystal-clear tune, only to realize that she had stepped out of the mushroom ring into some faerie's incredibly well manicured garden. She glanced down at her boots. They stood on a striped emerald and olive lawn, no faerie ring in sight. No way back.

 _Rats,_ thought Nicola. _Where am I?_

She pulled herself up on the metal trellis beside the bush and almost fell off of it at the sight of what lay over the wall. Faeries of every shape and size and height were vying for entrance to a palace's massive doors. The faeries wore robes from brilliant swathes of silken fabrics embellished with incredible designs — not even the most talented seamstress or tailor could accomplish such a work. They created a living, breathing rainbow. And she was perched on a wall of the palace gardens that had bushes lush with roses and peonies and lilies growing unnaturally all together on the same plant.

_At least, I think it's a palace._

It didn't quite add up, but Nicola didn't expect it to. She knew almost nothing about Faerieland.

"In all my seventeen years," Nicola said breathlessly. _This is what the city must be like._

A lone faerie sat on top of a stone pillar, shout-singing the same announcement over and as the throngs of faeries moved towards the entrance. The faerie had a magnificent button-down coat, with each button a precious stone or metal, and as Nicola noted, the same formal style Sophie had.

The metal trellis pinched the palms of her hands and the vines growing up it clamored at the ends of her dress as if a needy child. She jumped back down into the garden.

 _The faeries know one another, right?_ Nicola looked once towards the bush she arrived from. _Best get to the party._

She emerged from the garden as if Cinderella had decided to wear the pumpkin to the ball instead of the dress — bedraggled and covered in a suspicious amount of leaves.

Proceeding forwards, she walked up the marble steps leading away from the garden and towards the faerie mass still vying for the palace's front door. Leaves fell from her frock with every step.

"Little hobgoblin? Little hobgoblin?" A hand pulled at Nicola's shoulder just as she was about to push herself into the mess of faeries.

"Huh?"

"Peculiar little thing," the faerie muttered to her partner. "Trying to get in the main entrance." She hit Nicola on the head with her peacock feather fan, "silly thing."

"I'm not—"

Beatrix stared at Nicola. At least, Nicola thought her name was Beatrix, else the massive embroidering of the word "Beatrix" down the length of the faerie's deep pink gown only added to her confusion. "Go to the servant's entrance or whatever." She indicated at the leaves and splattering of flour. "Just get that outfit out of my sight."

 _Is that a swan wrapped around her neck?_ Nicola thought.

Beatrix didn't appear to notice Nicola's lack of an answer. "Away," she shooed Nicola.

Nicola wandered around the faeries, much to their disgust, looking for the servant's entrance.

"What is _that_?" One faerie shrieked while powdering his face with something blue.

"Get those leaves away from my dress!" Another yelled.

One faerie clasped at her many necklaces as Nicola walked by. The lone human withered beneath their gazes.

——————————♬———————————

"Is this the servant's entrance?"

An _actual_ hobgoblin stared at the leaf-covered girl. The only difference between him and the faeries appeared to be that hobgoblins were inherently messier. His hair stood up as if in shock, and his uniform already had a giant red stain down the front.

"Obviously it's the servant's entrance," he cocked his head, "what else would it be?"

Nicola stood, mute.

"Do come on in then!" He pulled Nicola inside as other hobgoblins hurried around frantically, carting bits and pieces of who knows what. "You're late."

_Do I really look so dreadful that he mistook me for a hobgoblin?_

"Sorry I'm late!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Don't apologize." He stared into her eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Don't. Apologize."

_Shoot, I think that's something from the faerie tales._

"Why can't I apologize?" She asked as the hobgoblin pulled her down the twisting corridor.

He didn't stop moving. "Not the smartest mushroom in the ring, are you?"

 _Right back at you,_ Nicola thought. _You think I'm a hobgoblin._

He babbled on. Nicola didn't quite pay attention to it, instead focusing on forming some type of plan to hunt Sophie down. But by the time the hobgoblin had explained the origin of his name — Hort — and why he was the event's head chef — everyone was a way worse cook — Nicola had yet to come up with anything.

Turning a corner, they entered some sort of changing room. Hort shoved an outfit at her. It was a pale cream color with long sleeves and big shiny buttons down the front.

All around her, other hobgoblins were changing, stepping out of burlap colored garments and into the more refined server's outfits. Their messy hair, however, stayed.

_You can take the hobgoblin out of its clothing, but you can't —_

Hort, already in the cream clothing, folded his arms and interrupted Nicola's train of thought. "Well? Put it on then."

Nicola quickly changed, discarding her frock on the floor.

Hort stood to attention. "Everyone! You are all needed in the kitchen for this evening. Don't mess this up."

The servers murmured amongst themselves, but eventually filed in an orderly line out the room and towards the kitchen. Nicola followed nervously behind, her steps one beat out of synch with the rest of them.

_Sophie better be here._

———————————♬———————————

Armed with a silver platter of something that looked like an odd combination of sourdough bread and carrot sticks, Nicola trod cautiously around the ballroom — a room with geode-like crystals growing from the walls. Even the faeries' outfits appeared drab in contrast with the multi-colored crystals that clung to the windows like frozen dew drops. An elegantly dressed quartet played on the stage, their instruments gleaming against the red fabric backdrop.

 _Are the lights moving?_ Nicola narrowed her eyes. Each light was some type of glowing orb, flitting around aimlessly around the ballroom's ceiling. The roof was made of stained glass, and though the floor was a white marble, the light reflecting from the glass bounced onto the floor, creating an ever-changing pattern of colors.

All throughout the ballroom, faeries displayed their abilities. Some sat for paintings, others did the painting, and even more still looked on, scrutinizing the artists' work. There was everything here — as if it was simultaneously a convention and an elegant dance.

But Nicola ignored all of the others, she had to listen to the quartet, she felt compelled, drawn to the music. She wandered towards the stage, barely noticing the hands that reached onto her platter and took away bits and pieces of food.

With one violent down-stroke from the bows, the piece ended. The four took a bow just as Nicola approached the stage, packing up their instruments with an inhuman speed.

"How did you learn to play like that?" Nicola blurted.

The faerie, enveloped in a black suit with two long beetle-like flaps at the back, grinned, baring sharp teeth.

"The same way we all learn," he shrugged, multicolored light reflecting off of his abnormally shiny grin. "From the humans."

Nicola clapped her hand to her mouth. "You steal?"  
"It's not stealing," he said as he packed away his violin's bow. "All the humans agree to give their talents away. All's fair in trade and craft and all that." He focused on Nicola. "But you wouldn't know that, would you, hobgoblin?" And with that, he snatched a morsel off of her silver platter and downed it with unexpected ferocity, pulling out an embroidered napkin to dap around the corners of his mouth.

Nicola hurried off before the false musician could make a more acute observation about her. Everywhere she looked, another faerie was using a talent that they did not foster on their own — that they stole. Nicola grasped at her stomach, anxious to make the ever-growing dread go away.

 _The faeries use us,_ she thought as she glanced frantically around the room, her search for Sophie all the more important. The color-changing lights now felt like harsh beams against Nicola's eye, and the faerie's dresses hurt just as much. It was an overwhelming cacophony of colors and sounds and dancing and singing —

_Wait, singing?_

Startled, Nicola turned her head towards the stage previously occupied by the quartet, only to find someone with a familiar pair of white gloves standing center stage. Her first instinct was to march right up to Sophie and demand her singing back, but looking around, that was not an option. Too many faeries as witnesses.

Sophie, blissfully unaware of her plotter, continued to sing. If one could call it a recital, it could be considered Nicola's first — the voice Sophie used was definitely not her own.

Nicola stared at the faerie, entranced.

 _I should be up there,_ she thought. _They should be listening to me._

Sophie wore a reflective crystalline ball gown, which reflected the glowing orbs. She sounded like Nicola, but the song choice strayed from anything Nicola would have ever chosen for herself.

The song was, well, unnatural. As if each note Sophie let out tormented the seasons into unnaturally cold ones, twisted the branches until they came out knotted and broken. Sophie sang with a cruel and unusual pitch, manipulating Nicola's singing in ways the human could not bear to hear.

"She was way better last year," Beatrix muttered from behind Nicola.

Another faerie tapped her shoe against the marble. "Definitely."

"But hey, if Queenie isn't up to the task, we can always replace her."

_Wait, what?_

"Remember when our dear Queen took to the throne last ball? She tore through Anadil and Hester for the crown." Beatrix made sure to speak behind her peacock fan, but Nicola could hear her well enough.

"I can't wait until I can tear through her," the other faerie giggled. "Hopefully soon."

The faeries' talk ripped Nicola away from Sophie's performance; she swiveled and offered the faeries some food.

Beatrix plucked the hors d'oeuvre off of the platter and grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharpened teeth.

Beatrix's partner glared at Sophie, Queen of faeries. "We should replace her."

Sophie's song ended, and another performance began, prompting the two faeries to wander off. Nicola didn't even bother to pay attention to the woodwind's music, instead beelining to the white gloves that disappeared behind the red curtains.

———————————♬———————————

Sophie let out a deep breath and straightened her back. She was about to rejoin the revel when a hand pulled her further backstage and another covered her mouth.

Nicola met Sophie's green eyes in a deadlock. "You're the faerie Queen?"

Sophie pointed to the hand currently covering her mouth, and Nicola slowly let go. "Hello, darling. Wasn't expecting to see you here."

The heavy stage curtains muted all of the ball's sounds, so the two truly were alone. Nicola wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Well, are you?"

Sophie glanced back towards the curtains. "Obviously." It appeared as though she didn't want to be seen either.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What? So that you could have told me _oh yes faerie Queen, I'll give you my voice for money! Tee hee!_ "

Nicola let out an exasperated breath. "Give me my singing back."

Focusing again on something Nicola couldn't quite see, Sophie whispered in her ear, "I'll dance you for it."

"I can't dance!"

As Sophie led Nicola past the curtains and onto the dance floor, she held up one of the many lockets hung around her neck. "Oh, but darling, I can, and you don't have a choice in the matter." She looked around. "Everyone! Let us give a welcome to our first human to attend _our_ ball!"

Gasps could be heard around the room. A server dropped their silver platter, sending it clattering against the floor. Nicola's slim hope for survival vanished.

She pointed at the musicians on stage. "You there! Play something," Sophie, completely in her element, looked at Nicola, who was seemingly going to pass out at any moment, "fast."

"Yes, your majesty."

Sophie and Nicola grasped hands, one competitor more confident than the other — then the music started.

———————————♬———————————

The musician did not disappoint, perhaps playing as if her life was a line of string that Sophie could slice in half at any moment. Plain and simple, Sophie could dance; it wasn't her hard work and dedication that told her which way to move; it wasn't her skill that told her when to spin Nicola around; it wasn't her talent. For Sophie to move around the floor with such elegance, some human had to give up dancing — forever. Nicola gritted her teeth, frustrated with the hypocrisy of it all.

Sophie could have been dancing with a newborn foal, but alas, it was just Nicola. Her legs bumped together, and even when she stepped on Sophie's shoes, the faerie Queen never gave any indication of being in pain.

"You're good," Nicola panted, barely keeping up with each successive step.

Sophie smiled, unbothered. "I got to know Reena quite well a while ago. Could put everyone in this court to shame with her dance moves. The elegance! The grace!"

"Ree—" Nicola gasped, "—na?" Sweat dotted her face.

"Poor Reena, she'll never dance again. But I will!" Sophie trilled.

It had been at least a few minutes, but the music kept going on and on, never ceasing.

"When," Nicola's voice wavered, "will," she plodded on, "it stop?"

Sophie looked straight down into Nicola's very soul. "Never. Well, maybe once you die. I'll have grown awfully bored by then."

Nicola pushed Sophie away from her ripping off Sophie's jade locket from the many around her neck as she backed up. "You monster!"

"What? Aren't we all?"

The other faeries jeered, eager to join the mockery. Sophie's shadow grew longer. "Run away little mouse," she simpered, "lest the cat come and gobble you up!"

———————————♬———————————

Nicola sprinted for the exit, her previous tiredness bolting from her body. But she couldn't help herself, turning back one last time to look at the faerie Queen.

Sophie's grin grew feral. "Tick tock, little mouse. I'm coming to get you!"

As Nicola pushed past the other faeries, none of them moved. This was their Queen's hunt, not theirs, and as much as they hated the Queen, they couldn't deprive her of this. It could be an opportunity to unseat her once she returned from the chase.

Nicola slammed into the faerie from the quartet, the one with the beetle flap jacket. The flaps melted into actual beetles, writhing against his skin. The faerie didn't appear to notice nor care.

Nicola shrieked.

_Almost there, almost there._

The doorway grew farther and farther away. The once gorgeous lighting took on a mottled yellow hue. Beatrix's peacock fan squawked and began prancing around the room, oblivious to the chaos. All of the faerie's outfits melded together into true horrifying nightmares, but Nicola tried not to look at any of it, focusing only on the door.

But not the main entrance door.

Nicola fled into the servant's corridor, pushing Hort to the side and sending his hors d'oeuvres flying as she exited whilst pursued by the Queen, whose dress trailed gracefully behind each successive step.

She only made it as far as the garden until Sophie caught up with her. The garden trellis to her back, Sophie stood at her front.

Holding up the locket, Nicola stood in a stalemate, neither one moving. "Don't take a step closer! I'll take my singing back!"

"Oh, will you now? Reclaim what?" Sophie laughed. "Someone's baking talent?"

Nicola faltered, doing a double take at the locket. "This is my singing. I saw you with that ridiculous green locket in the bakery. You're bluffing."

"Am I now?" Sophie pulled out a second jade locket. "Watch this." And before Nicola could reach out and grasp at it, Sophie had thrown the locket to the ground and crushed it beneath her heel. A little puff of smoke emerged from the broken trinket, and then it too vanished into the nighttime fog.

Nicola's knees buckled, and she fell to the ground in anguish. "Kill me then, if that's what you really want. The moment you broke that locket, you already killed me anyway."

"Darling, what's the fun in that? Would it not be more fun to send you home and have you live out the rest of your days in misery?"

All Nicola could do was stare up at the woman who single-handedly ruined her life.

"You ruined my life!"

"No, you ruined it!" Sophie pulled Nicola up from the dirt, her server's outfit covered in green grass stains. "You gave away your gift. You did this. Would you really have gone to the city and been happy?" She shook her head. "I doubt it. That's why I agreed to give you the money in the first place."

"But nobody told me the tales were real, that everything—" Nicola gestured around, "was real. It can't be my fault."

"Can't help that darling. Life's not fair. Besides," Sophie touched Nicola's cheeks, removing the tears she hadn't realized were there, "humans that give up are no fun anyways. I wanted you to fight me!"

"Fight you?" Nicola hiccupped.

"So I could show all of Faerieland that I saved them from ruin. Obviously."

Her voice wobbly, Nicola held up the locket once more. "I could still take this from you."

"Oh, that old thing? The faerie court hated that talent anyway. You can have it. Actually," something glinted in Sophie's eye, "here, have this." She handed Nicola a ruby locket. "Another singing talent, much better than your own. Almost started a riot when I sang with it, but you humans have weird tastes; you'll like it."

Nicola stared at it, hesitant. After a moment, she pushed the locket away. "It's not my singing." She offered up the baking talent locket as well. "I'll have to learn to bake properly myself. What you do here is _wrong_."

Sophie laughed. "Darling, there are no words. We are faeries, after all." She looked back to the palace. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a crown to keep. Maybe we can battle for real sometime."

And in a flash, Nicola found herself in front of the bakery, once again in her dirty frock. She pushed open the door, the little brass bell chiming as usual. A head turned around from the counter — Chaddick. He dropped an entire tray of croissants onto the floor and raced towards Nicola, sweeping her up into a hug.

"Nicola," he cried out, "it's been weeks!"

She rolled up her sleeves. "I want to learn how to bake, for real."

Chaddick broke away in shock. "What did the faeries do to the Nicola that I knew?"

"Chaddick, it's me." She hugged him. "I'm me, whether I can sing or not."


End file.
